


Joyous Be Your Pain

by Milieu



Series: 33 Day Guro Challenge [30]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: 33 Day Guro Challenge, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Other, Prose Poem, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: Empires rise and fall, time chases itself in a circle, and the avatars of Chaos crawl on.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 30 - Monstrous

Thirty-eight thousand years later and humanity still crawled on its knees, but it brought others to their knees as well. Thirty-eight thousand years later, and mankind had stared into the far reaches and chosen to strike back, and it had not emerged victorious but neither had it been defeated.

There is no longer a country named Egypt, nor the planet that held it, nor any man who remembers its name. Thirty-eight thousand years later, only Nyarlathotep remembers. Nyarlathotep who danced among the eldar in their decadence, Nyarlathotep who bore witness to the birth of Slaanesh, he remembers, and occasionally he whispers the secrets that he knows to a man, eldar, necron, or ork. Nyarlathotep, who walks among the Gods of Chaos and is not dominated by them but who spreads his own influence when the whim strikes.

When the whim strikes, he whispers his secrets to Slaanesh and they amuse the Dark Prince of Pleasure. The Keeper of Secrets embraces the Crawling Chaos, the Messenger of the Gods, the Black Pharaoh and his honeyed tongue, his fingers which weave magic, and the sky screams.

Flesh twists, hands and arms and eyes and mouths, the Serpent, the Faceless God, male and female and nothing and other. Were Nyarlathotep such an entity as is given to feelings of kinship, that might be the feeling which draws him to Slaanesh. Thirty-eight thousand years later, they dance among the stars.

Thirty-eight thousand years of empires, of wars, of collapse, of disease, of death, of destruction, of beauty, of creation, of music, of light, of thought, of pain. Thirty-eight thousand years of the realization that when all is stripped away, all races of the stars are as mankind was and will be.

Slaanesh, She Who Thirsts, Lord of Excess, Lord of Pleasure, young thing made of chaos and agony with still so much to learn. Eyes and mouths and arms and hands, one then the other then all then none in an instant, reveling in burning cities, crying out in pleasure as the unworthy are crushed underfoot. Thirty-eight thousand years later, they embrace their lover, the one who writes poems, the one who remembers, Nyarlathotep.

And the sky screams.

**Author's Note:**

> I think Nyarlathotep and Slaanesh would get along great.


End file.
